128 SAFARI 



like a runner. This time she charged. At the same 

 moment the film ran out of my magazine and I 

 started to load again, knowing that Boculy or Bukhari 

 would stop the beast in time. Meanwhile Osa was 

 making stills. But when the elephant got within 

 fifty yards she grabbed her gun. Then, un- 

 expectedly, at a distance of twenty yards Boculy 

 shot, then Bukhari. Boculy shot again, each time 

 knocking the charging elephant to her knees. On 

 the last round I yelled for them to stop shooting. 

 Then I read the riot act to the two boys because 

 they should have waited until the other white man 

 with us, Mr. Saimderson, had decided to shoot. 

 It is one of the worst crimes a black can commit 

 in Africa, to shoot before his Bwana. Had they been 

 alone with me it would have been all right. Happily, 

 the female ran away with the herd and Saimderson 

 asstued me that her only wound was a flesh one 

 on her trunk. 



Osa had her own private experiences with the 

 cameras and elephants. Without telling me, one 

 day, she took what she thought was my best Graflex 

 and walked over to the Old Lady Waterhole, two 

 miles from our camp. The camera was carried in a 

 black leather case swung over the shoulder of her 

 black boy. A bull elephant, two females, and a 

 little toto were having a great time here, throwing 

 water all over themselves, shower-fashion, with their 



